


Smells like Death

by Canon_Is_Relative



Category: Lost Girl, Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Dean has died a lot, Gen, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 02:06:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1922619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canon_Is_Relative/pseuds/Canon_Is_Relative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“For the last time,” the guy grunted, pulling against the restraints binding him to the chair. “My name is Dean Winchester, and I’m <i>human</i>. I’m a freaking hunter, for God’s sake, I tend to get all stabby on the things that go bump in the night, not join up with them!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smells like Death

“For the last time,” the guy grunted, pulling against the restraints binding him to the chair. “My name is Dean Winchester, and I’m _human_. I’m a freaking hunter, for God’s sake, I tend to get all stabby on the things that go bump in the night, not join up with them!”

“Mm-mm, he’s sassy! If he is human, can I keep him?”

“Kenzi! Not now, okay?” Kenzi pouted and went back to picking over the jumble of weapons they’d found in the back of the thing’s — of Dean Winchester’s — car, and Bo turned to Dyson. “So, what do you think?”

Dyson leaned down, his hands braced on the arms of the chair, his face very close to Dean’s, and breathed him in deep.

“Whoa, okay, Hugh Jackman, seriously, with the sniffing? Are you…” Dean trailed off, eyes wide and fixed on Dyson’s as they shifted back to their human shape.

Dyson backed away to stand beside Bo. He shook his head slightly, not taking his eyes from the man. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Definitely not a lich. Could be a vampire, but—“

“A vampire? Are you freaking kidding me? That’s hilarious coming from the assclown who goes around smelling people. I ain’t no vamp, buddy, why don’t you come back over here and check my lack-of-fangs situation for yourself!” Dean gave another concerted effort to free himself and almost toppled his chair over.

“Whoa, easy there, tiger,” Hale steadied him. “We don’t want to hurt you, we just want to figure out who and what you are. So why don’t you just declare yourself — do you align with the Light or the Dark?”

“Hey, pretty boy?” Dean gritted. “Bite me.”

“Ooh, you hear that lil mama?” Hale crowed. “He thinks I’m pretty!”

“Hands off, he’s mine,” Kenzi called without looking up.

“Was she talking about Hale, or…?” Dyson asked Bo.

“Who knows.” Bo put her hands on her hips. “Can we please get on with this? I was supposed to meet Lauren like twenty minutes ago.”

“Can’t you just succu-touch him and get it over with?” Kenzi asked. “I mean, what’s with the foreplay, Bo-bo? Sexy doctors not filling the bill, these days?”

“Kenzi? Do you _want_ to wait in the car?”

“Can I wait in _his_ car?” the human asked eagerly.

The shout of “No!” from both Dean and Bo silenced her and she sulked over to Hale.

Bo turned her attention to Dean, ambling towards him, beginning to smile when she saw how he ran his eyes over her and unconsciously shifted against his bonds as though he was trying to relax, spread his legs a bit and sprawl, aiming a cocky grin up at her.

She leaned over him, one hand braced behind his shoulder. “I’m sorry about my friends, they get a little jumpy sometimes, you know? It’s part of the job,” she said, rolling her eyes and giving a sweet, apologetic, _but what can you do_ smile. “So really, if you would just tell us, Dean — can I call you Dean?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he drawled, “you can call me whatever you want.”

She giggled and smacked his hand, tossing her hair. “Kenzi’s right, you _are_ sassy! And you did put up a hell of a fight…” 

“And that is not even the start of what I would put up for you. So how’s about you untie me and we settle this like, ah, consenting adults, hm? Whaddaya say?”

It was his eyes she’d noticed first, in the bar. Like twin emeralds they’d beckoned to her from across the room, and good God, up close, he was even more beautiful. The way he’d carried himself, the strength in his limbs hidden beneath denim and leather, his whole bearing was incredibly masculine but that skin, those lips, so delicate, so sensual…she felt warmth gathering under her skin, his desire and hers commingling in the air between them, and she lifted a hand to his face, fingers just grazing the perfect shell of his ear…

“Bo, don’t!” Trick shouted. He came hurrying down the stairs, carrying a stack of small paperback books. “Don’t touch him!”

She jerked away. Beneath her, Dean gave an audible moan, his head rolling to one side. “What? Why not?”

“He is who he says he is. He’s human.”

“Human?” Dyson asked. “Then why does he smell like—“

“Like death?” Dyson nodded, and Trick put the books down on his desk. Craning his neck to see what they were looking at, Dean caught sight of the stack and groaned something that sounded like _Oh god, not those again._ The books were all emblazoned with the series title _Supernatural_ , and featured two often bare-chested young men on the covers. Trick held up the one titled _No Rest for the Wicked_ and said solemnly, “Because this man has died more times than any human I’ve ever heard of.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Theme = The Undead. Supernatural/any fandom with supernatural creatures, any, Dean Winchester is human but he doesn't read/look/smell like one.
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/538650.html?thread=76694554#t76694554).


End file.
